


Don't Ask Questions

by CoffeeSmokesAndDietCokes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Mentor Severus Snape, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeSmokesAndDietCokes/pseuds/CoffeeSmokesAndDietCokes
Summary: Harry learned a long time ago not to ask questions. When Hagrid comes, he doesn't really know what is happening, but decides to go along with it anyway. What will it change when Harry doesn't get told the story of his parents before he goes to school?





	1. The Keeper of The Keys

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> I'm afraid the first bit of chapter one is going to look remarkably like chapter four of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in a lot of ways, as it is the premise for the story but also the point at which my story deviates from canon. I apologise for this, and shall endeavor to make everything so forth much less monotonous. This is, in essence, *what happens when Harry sticks to his gut and remembers that he is to NOT ASK QUESTIONS*.  
> Also, sadly, I don't own a thing :(  
> All the best - B

The Keeper of The Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.  
"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.  
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.  
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I'm warning you - I'm armed!"  
There was a pause. Then -  
SMASH!  
The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.  
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.  
The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping do that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.  
"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"  
He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.  
"Budge up, yeh great lump." said the stranger.  
Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.  
"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.  
Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.  
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."  
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.  
"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"  
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber and threw it into a corner of the room.  
Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.  
"Anyway - Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursley's, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point but it'll taste all right."  
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.  
Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"  
The giant chuckled.  
"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."  
He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.  
"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."  
His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled crisp packets in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he;d sunk into a hot bath.  
The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle of some amber liquid which he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."  
The giant chuckled darkly.  
"Yer great puddin' of a son don't need fattenin' any more, Dursley, don't worry."  
He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but still he couldn't take his eyes off the giant. The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before turning back to Harry.  
"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I work at Hogwarts. I've come ter give yer letter and take yer teh get yer books an' that."  
Harry nodded, although he had no idea what Hagrid was talking about. He had learned a long time ago that asking questions would only make it difficult for him to sit down for the next few days, so he said nothing as Hagrid passed him a heavy envelope with emerald green writing across the front.

Mr H Potter  
The Floor  
Hut-on-the-Rock  
The Sea

Harry pulled out the letter and read, his eyes narrowing in confusion, but still he said nothing. School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Supreme Mugwump. We await your owl…  
What in the world was going on? If he didn't know any better, he may think this was the Dursley's idea of a joke, but Harry knew that the Dursley's did not have a sense of humour and surely did not possess the imagination to come up with something as elaborate as this. For some reason though, he seemed to trust Hagrid. His beetle black eyes were kind, Harry thought, so maybe this wasn't a joke after all.  
Harry looked up at Hagrid and frowned.  
"Sir, I'm not sure I can afford to go to this school. I'm sorry for wasting your time."  
"Well yer parents left money fer that, didn't they." Hagrid smiled widely and patted Harry on the shoulder - so hard his knees buckled and he fell against the wall.  
"Oh." Harry thought for a moment, then decided that a question was necessary. "How may I send an owl, Sir?"  
"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note which Harry could read upside-down:  
Dear Mr Dumbledore,  
Given Harry his letter, taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible!  
Hope you're well, Hagrid.  
Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.  
Harry realised his mouth was open and closed it quickly.  
"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town."  
He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.  
"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	2. Diagon Alley

Diagon Alley  
Harry awoke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.  
‘It was a dream,’ he told himself firmly. ‘I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.’  
There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.  
‘And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door,’ Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn’t open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.  
Tap. Tap. Tap.  
“All right,” Harry mumbled, “I’m getting up.”  
He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.  
Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.  
“Don’t do that.”  
Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.  
“Hagrid!” said Harry loudly. “There’s an owl-”  
“Pay him,” Hagrid grunted into the sofa.  
“What?”  
“He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”  
Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, mint humbugs, teabags … finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.   
“Give him five Knuts,” said Hagrid sleepily.  
“Knuts?”  
“The little bronze ones.”  
Harry counted out five little bronze coins and the owl held out its leg so he could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then it flew off through the open window.  
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up and stretched.  
“Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”  
Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them.  
“Got everythin’? Come on, then.”  
Harry followed Hagrid out on to the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.  
“How did you get here?” Harry asked, looking around for another boat. Then he took a step back, regretting that he had not kept his mouth shut. Don’t ask questions! Hagrid, however, looked unperturbed.   
“Flew,” he said.  
“Flew?”  
“Yeah - but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”  
They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.  
“Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Harry a sideways look. “If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?”  
“Of course not,” said Harry, eager to see what the giant would do next. Hagrid pulled out his pink umbrella, tapped it twice on the side of the boat and they sped off towards land.   
Harry remained silent while Hagrid read his newspaper, The Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was a little difficult, he’d never had so many questions in his life.  
“Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,” Hagrid muttered, turning the page. He must have caught sight of Harry’s confused look, because he lowered the paper slightly and explained, “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice. Their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”  
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper and they clambered up the stone steps on to the street.  
Passers-by stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn’t blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, “See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?”  
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes’ time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand “muggle money”, as he called it, have the notes to Harry so he could buy their tickets.  
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.  
“Still got yer letter, Harry?” he asked as he counted stitches.  
Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.  
“Good,” said Hagrid, “There’s a list there of everything yeh need.”  
Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn’t noticed the night before and read it through, somewhat disbelievingly.  
“Can we buy all this in London?” he wondered aloud.  
“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid.  
***  
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.  
“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said, as they climbed a broken-down escalator which led up to a bustling road lined with shops.   
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street filled with ordinary people. Could there really be shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some hugs joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn’t reminded himself that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, he might have thought so.  
“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”  
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry wouldn’t have noticed that it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.  
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the barman reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”  
“Not today, Tom,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and leading him swiftly through the crowd. Harry almost stumbled as he stared at one man who was leaning on the counter near the barman, who was wearing a purple silk turban and staring at Harry with wide eyes, but he quickly righted himself and headed through the door at which Hagrid was pushing him. Oddly, Hagrid seemed to be in quite a rush to get through the pub quietly, but Harry could not see why since when they got outside they were in a small, walled courtyard where there was nothing but a few dustbins and some weeds.  
“Three up … Two across …” Hagrid was muttering to himself. “Right, stand back, Harry.”  
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.  
The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.  
“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”


	3. Gringotts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last two chapters have been both little and unoriginal, but it was needed in order to reiterate what Harry doesn’t know- that is to say, anything. From here on out is AU, and the chapters are longer, I swear. Thanks for bearing with me!  
> Also, the updates are hopefully going to be weekly on this one from now on as I am going back to work, but I shall update as often as I can!

“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”  
***  
“Gringotts first, Harry, we gotta get yer money.”  
Harry fount it almost impossible to school his features into indifference as he took in the sight. A shop to his left had a large stack of cauldrons by the door, in all different colours and materials, and Harry remembered his school list advising that he would need one of them soon himself. He saw an apothecary, a magical menagerie, a shop that looked as though it only sold broomsticks and a bookshop four stories tall.  
They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was - what in the world was that?  
“Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. Harry noted that he didn’t look like a particularly happy fellow, but nonetheless smiled as they approached the door. They walked through a second set of doors, silver this time, which had words engraved upon them:  
Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn  
Must pay most dearly in their turn  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.  
As a pair of goblins bowed them through the doors, Harry noticed that they were now in a hugs marble hall. There were more goblins through here, sitting at tall podiums along each length of the room and scribbling in heavy looking ledgers, counting coins and - in one corner - seemingly counting out normal money too. Harry supposed that you could get money converted if needed too, which would come in handy if he needed any money when he was staying with the Dursleys. He decided that he should keep his money as safe and secret from them as possible, though.  
Hagrid walked over to a free goblin, who was sat behind one of the tall tables.  
“Mr. Potter would like to make a withdrawal,” he said to the goblin. Harry noticed that Hagrid did not seem nearly as friendly when speaking to them as he had done whilst speaking to Harry, which made him frown a little.  
The goblin stared at Harry for a moment, then nodded and rang a small bell at his side. Another goblin appeared from a side room behind him, and they spoke for a moment. Or, Harry supposed they were speaking, it sounded rather like they were both just making some very guttural noises, to him. The second goblin turned to Harry, and waved him towards the room from which he had appeared.  
“With me, if you please Mr. Potter.”  
Harry followed him whilst Hagrid remained at the desk with the teller. He seemed to be handing over a thin envelope, but before Harry could see anything else he had been led into a small room with a desk and three chairs. There was a stack of paperwork on one end of the desk, and the goblin reached for the top leaf of parchment and placed it in front of him. Then he pulled out a small dagger from his pocket.  
“My name is Griphook,” the goblin said, “and I am the financial coordinator for the Potter vaults. If you don’t mind, I would like to confirm some identification please.”  
Harry was puzzled, but he smiled at the goblin anyway. “Nice to meet you, Sir, but I’m afraid I don’t have any identification. What do I need?”  
Griphook lifted the dagger from where he had placed it on the table and handed it to Harry, who looked at it warily.  
“If you would, Mr. Potter, all you need to do is cut your hand over this parchment. Three drops of blood will be your identification.”  
“Oh, yes, sir, thank you.” Harry took the dagger and held his hand out over the table. Closing his eyes, he pulled the dagger across the fleshy area under his thumb and let a few drops of his blood fall, before closing his hand and pulling away. Griphook turned the parchment around so it was facing him and smiled.  
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he said, “we can now get you a key for the Potter vault.”  
“Does anybody else have a key to the vault, sir?” Harry asked.   
“No, Mr. Potter, it is a family vault and therefore you are the only person with the right to access it.” Harry nodded, and Griphook studied him for a moment. “Mr. Potter-”  
Harry interrupted, “Please, sir, call me Harry.”   
“Harry, of course, have you been receiving statements from us with regard to your account?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Do you know why?”  
“Well, sir, I have been living with my Aunt and Uncle and they are not magic. I think- I think Hagrid called them muggles? I didn’t know about this world until yesterday I’m afraid, so I am not sure that the statements would have found me.”  
“Muggles, yes. I see. Would you like to see your statement today?”  
“Yes please,” said Harry with a small smile. “Also sir, if you don’t mind, would you be able to help me in transferring some of the vault money into muggle money and advising me of the conversion rate? I would like to have something set aside in case I need anything in the muggle world.”   
“Very smart, Mr. Po- Harry. Of course I shall assist you in such. We shall retrieve your key first, go down to the vault, and then I shall assist you in changing the money also. Is there anything else you need?”  
“No, thank you sir.”  
“Very well, follow me then please.” Griphook stood from behind the desk and led Harry back into the main chamber of the bank. Hagrid was still waiting at the podium with the other goblin and made to follow when he saw Harry emerging, but Griphook shook them off. “I require Mr. Potter for a moment longer please, I shall bring him back to you shortly Mr. Hagrid.”  
Harry smiled at Hagrid, but the giant was looking at Griphook funnily- as though he didn’t trust the goblin. Harry ignored this. After all, Griphook had been very helpful and answered his questions, even though he had probably asked far too many. It was quite nice to be treated as an adult, Harry thought.  
He followed Griphook through the main hallway, but just before the large wooden door with the word ‘VAULTS’ printed across the handles, they turned right into a small alcove. On the wall, there was what looked like an old postbox with a hole and small dish at the bottom. Griphook posted the parchment they had been using earlier through the slot and Harry heard a soft plink as a key fell into the dish. Looking to Griphook for confirmation, he reached forward and took the key.   
The wall to their right suddenly dissolved, revealing a long, dark passageway and about fifteen doorways. Harry gaped at the sight - what was it with walls not really being walls in the wizarding world? He pulled himself together and walked through behind Griphook who turned and placed his hand on the first doorway to their left.   
“Usually, when you come to us you will need to go to the vaults using the carts. However, it will be much quicker for us to do this today seeing as we have other things to accomplish. If you place your hand on the doorway next to mine please, Harry, you will be able to see through the door and it will show you the contents of your vault. If you would like to enter the vault, you need only hold the key in the hand you place against the door. Just so you know, not everybody can use this hallway, there are only about fifty familial vaults which are old enough to have these entrances in place.”  
Harry was astonished. This day was already totally bizarre and it was barely lunchtime. He quickly put the key into his left hand and placed it on the doorway, which swung inwards slightly. Placing the key back into his pocket, Harry pushed the door open further and his jaw dropped.   
“The gold ones are Galleons, the silver are Sickles and the bronze Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. I believe one Galleon converts to just under five muggle pounds.”  
“Thank you, Sir,” said Harry, as he scooped up a few handfuls of coins.   
“Just on your left is the ledger, Mr. - Harry. If you take a look it will tell you the current contents of your vault and show all previous withdrawals and deposits. There has been no activity in this vault since your parents’ passing, save for interest being deposited every year.”  
Harry nodded, struggling a little to take in all the new information. He stood to face Griphook, shoving a last handful of coins into his jeans pocket, when the goblin laughed. It was a croaky sound, quite odd, but he didn’t quite understand the problem until he noticed Griphook holding a small brown pouch out to him.  
“My apologies Harry, I did not realise you were not in possession of a pouch. This will hold as much money as you require as there in an undetectable extension charm woven into the fabric. There is also a woven-in featherlight charm so you needn’t weigh yourself down so much.”  
This time, Harry laughed too.  
“Thank you, Griphook. That will certainly come in useful.”   
The goblin smiled, and then headed for the door. “If you are done, Harry, we can go to the conversion desk now and see to the muggle money?”  
Harry made his way over to the door as well, quickly transferring the money from his pockets to the small pouch, then he stepped outside pulling the door closed behind him. They walked back through the wall that was hidden behind the post-box-key-dispenser and into the atrium. Harry didn’t quite know why, but he felt a little relieved that Hagrid wasn’t waiting there for him still.   
Griphook was walking just in front, alongside another goblin. Harry noticed that they were making the same guttural sounds as earlier and decided that it must be a language of sorts- he would research it a little once he had his books. Finally, they came to a low table near the entrance where a goblin sat counting notes into piles. Griphook cleared his throat.  
“Mr. Harry Potter would like to exchange some Galleons into Sterling.”  
Harry felt a little unnerved as the goblin grinned creepily up at them, but he could tell the other goblin was taken aback when Griphook remained where he was.   
“And how much would Mr. Harry Potter like to exchange?” came the sly voice of the grinning goblin.  
“Twenty Galleons into Pounds, please sir,” Harry said politely, though he wanted nothing more than to run away from the goblin who did not seem as kind as Griphook. He watched as almost one hundred pounds was counted out in front of him, and passed across the desk. Handing over his twenty Galleons, he took the muggle money and put it into his jeans pocket. Then, nodding curtly at the goblin, he turned away to see Hagrid coming through the doors at the other end of the hall - the vaults.  
“Harry!” he boomed. “There y’are. All sorted like?”  
Harry nodded. “Thank you Griphook, sir, for all your help,” he said.  
“You are most welcome. Should you need anything further Harry, send an owl.”  
“I will do, thank you,” he smiled kindly, then turned to where Hagrid was waiting by the exit and headed back onto the busy alleyway.   
It was even busier outside than it had been when they arrived, and Harry noticed that they had been in the bank for almost an hour! Hagrid seemed to be heading to a shop right next to Gringotts, Madam Malkins; Robes for all Occasions.   
“Would yer mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky while yer get sorted with yer uniform, Harry? Not a fan o’ those bloody carts.”  
Harry didn’t really know what Hagrid was referring to, but nodded all the same. Then, alone, he entered Madam Malkin’s and looked around. On his right were shelves of everything you would expect to find in a normal clothing store- jumpers, tshirts, jeans, slacks, underwear, coats and shoes. Opposite these, however, were rails of hanging robes of all colours and materials. Harry was sure that he could see everything from silk to linen to wool. He picked up a wooden basket from next to the door and browsed through the shelves, knowing that he could not wear Dudley’s old clothes for school, but he didn’t really know what he would need. He had never been clothes shopping in his life. After a few minutes, a squat, friendly-looking woman approached him.  
“Can you find what you need, dear?”  
He looked up, surprised. Was it normal for people to be so helpful?  
“Well,” he hesitated, then decided that maybe she could be as useful as Griphook in answering his questions so he carried on, “I am going to Hogwarts this year but I have no clothes of my own, only my cousin’s hand-me-downs. I need a new wardrobe but I’m not quite sure what that consists of.” Harry blushed a little as he admitted to having only Dudley’s old clothes, but the witch seemed kind enough and didn’t comment.  
“Well then, let’s get you sorted. You will need your uniform- probably at least two pairs of trousers and four or five shirts. Here, try these.” She thrust a pair of black trousers at Harry, who looked around for a dressing room of some sort.  
“Um, Where should I try them on Madam?”  
The witch smiled at him, “just duck behind those rails, I need to make sure they are the right size and length for you and then we can get the rest of your clothes in the same size as well.”  
Harry did as he was told, reappearing after a minute with the black trousers on. They were far too long, trailing underfoot, and the witch laughed heartily at the sight.  
“Here, hop up on this here and I can fix that for you,” she told him whilst pulling a step ladder out from underneath one of the shelves. She pulled a stick out from up her sleeve and pointed it at Harry’s feet. Amazingly, the trousers severed at just the right length and tightened slightly to fit Harry’s legs better. Harry supposed that this was the witch’s version of Hagrid’s pink umbrella, a magic wand.  
“Thanks,” he breathed, still slightly shocked.  
The witch paid him no mind as she twirled around pulling a few jumpers off the shelves as well as two pairs of jeans and a few shirts in different colours too. Harry felt a little dizzy just watching her swan around the shop tossing things into his basket. He noticed that she seemed to have created a colour palette for him, mostly dark greens and blues, but there were also the standard white shirts and black trousers.  
“Here,” she called a few moments later, “I need you to try this robe on so I can get the right fit for you please.”  
Harry followed his instructions feeling a little surplus to requirements as the woman fixed him up with everything he could possibly need. After about fifteen minutes, he had two uniform robes, one winter cloak, one pointed hat, four white shirts, two dark green shirts and one light blue, two pairs of black uniform trousers, two pairs of dark blue jeans, one pair of black jeans, two t-shirts each in red, blue, green, black and white and two soft jumpers, one black and one green. Harry was starting to worry about how he could possibly get all this clothing home, when the witch finally stopped twirling around and smiled at him.   
“Only thing left is shoes and underwear which I am sure you can pick yourself. If you need any help, just shout.” As soon as she were finished talking, the witch had already disappeared behind the stacks. Harry grabbed a few handfuls of socks and pants and threw them into the (already slightly overloaded) basket, then he walked across the shop and looked over the rows of shoes. He did need new shoes, that was for sure, as the ones he was wearing were old and had holes in the bottom.  
He chose a pair of black boots which were labelled as dragon hyde but looked sturdy and had a nice pattern on the tongue, as well as a pair of simple black shoes that looked similar to muggle plimsolls, except that they were much sturdier and would be better for playing sports or general day-to-day use.   
It took a few tries to call the witch back to the counter from where she had been in a back room, but soon Harry had paid for his new clothes and the witch had helped him load them into a satchel which worked similarly to his Gringotts pouch.   
He bid the kind witch goodbye, then headed outside to where he could see Hagrid leaning against the wall opposite the shop. He looked up at the man as he approached, and noticed that he did look a little better now than he had done before.   
“Sorted? Great, we’ll grab yer a trunk and tools from Wiseacre’s and then get yer books sorted, alright?”  
Harry didn’t really mind what order they did things in, so he simply nodded, and turned towards the next stop on their journey thinking that it couldn’t possibly get any stranger.


	4. Back at the Dursleys'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter by hand in an old school book. I like editing that way, but come this evening when I had to write it up on the computer I really wish I remembered that my eyes suck when I'm tired. Please be kind!

Back at the Dursleys’  
Harry had noticed, as they strolled through Diagon Alley, that there seemed to be an awful lot of people looking at him wherever they went. He supposed it may have something to do with the fact that he seemed to be one of the very few people wearing - what Hagrid called - ‘muggle clothing’, as opposed to the cape-like robes which seemed to be sported by a majority of the alley’s patrons. Regardless, by the end of the day, Harry was happy to collapse onto his bed back at the Dursleys’, his trunk packed neatly at the end of his bed and daydreaming happily about what it would be like to finally get away from his Aunt and Uncle’s home.  
Harry had purchased far more than just the contents of his school list, however. He’d grabbed three ‘Beginner’s Potions Kit’s, excited that his cooking skills may finally come in useful after all and determined to get in some sort of practice before he left. His brand new wardrobe was keeping absolutely hidden from his relatives at the bottom of his trunk under piles of books and parchment, along with a black leather wand holster that had been recommended by a tall, dark skinned wizard with kind eyes, and who seemed to be at least trying not to stare at him which was much appreciated. Harry had also found a few titles in Flourish and Blotts that he thought might help him integrate himself into the wizarding world, including: Potions Ingredients: The Basic Guide - a beginners guide to potions ingredients, preparations and storage - A Muggle-born’s Guide to Pureblood Etiquette - the cover advertised ‘everything wizard-raised magicals forget to tell you when you enter the wizarding world’ - The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two - because Harry wanted to be able to read ahead and also to learn the ‘jelly-legs curse’ he had noticed whilst flicking through - and Great Wizarding Events in the Twentieth Century - because the clerk had suggested it.   
It was the Potions and Herbology texts that Harry found himself perusing for pleasure over the coming weeks, once he had finished skimming through all his books to gain some basic knowledge of what his classes would entail. He had not memorised the books by any means, but found that a lot of the information seemed easy for him to retain anyway - perhaps because it all seemed so much more interesting than anything he had read in his old school. He’d expected to enjoy the Dark Arts book the most, but despite the subject matter it proved to be a very dull read. Magical Theory on the other hand, which Harry had expected to find about at riveting as sawdust, proved to be most helpful in explaining how certain types of spells worked and which branches of magic worked well together in tandem. For example, Harry had read, to study potions one required a good understanding of herbology, so that the properties of each ingredient can be understood and analysed. Harry supposed that this would be quite handy should he ever need to substitute an ingredient - although his potions book had a lot of warnings about how you should not try substituting anything until you were absolutely sure of the reactions between every ingredient, as it could be very dangerous otherwise.  
The Dursley’s had, by large, ignored Harry completely since his return from Diagon Alley. Uncle Vernon had glared at him when he struggled through the front door with his trunk, which whilst not being particularly heavy due to a built in ‘featherlight’ charm that the proprietor had all but raved about was still a bit too large and bulky to carry with ease. Aunt Petunia had frostily told him to stay out of the way for the rest of the summer, a desire in which Harry was only too happy to oblige her. Anything that allowed him to spend time reading up on his new school subjects rather than tending to the dying begonias out front was fine by him.   
There was only three days left until September first, when Harry would be making his way to Kings Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express and begin, hopefully, his new life. Harry was sat on the bench in the sun at the end of the garden when Dudley’s large shadow fell across him.  
“Afternoon,” mumbled Harry, instantly on guard. Dudley had never sought Harry out for conversation, usually only finding his cousin when he and his bullying cohort decided it was time for ‘Harry Hunting’, so Harry was naturally quite wary of being in his presence. It was a surprise, therefore, when Dudley sat himself down on the bench right next to him. Dudley didn’t speak right away, instead staring intently at his shoes. After a few minutes however, he seemed to find his words.  
“I’m really sorry,” he blabbed.  
Harry blinked and shook his head.  
“What?” he spluttered.  
“I’m really sorry,” Dudley repeated, louder this time. “I- They- I mean- We. We shouldn’t have treated you like- that. And I can’t, I won’t apologise for them, but I will apologise for me becau- well, because we were awful to you.”  
Harry simply stared wide-eyed at his cousin. He had not expected that. Dudley seemed to realise that Harry wasn’t going to say anything yet, or rather that he couldn’t say anything yet, because he kept on.  
“I didn’t know about the magic stuff, they never told me, but I thought you could control it and- honestly it made me scared, but that still doesn’t excuse what we did to you. I shouldn’t have gone along with how they treated you. I should have known there was something bigger going on. I’m just really sorry, Harry.”  
He was still not quite sure what to say. “Where is this coming from, Dudley?”  
Dudley sighed. “I heard mum start going on about her ‘freak sister’ and how it was ‘freaky and unnatural’ and to be honest I realised that I don’t want that to be me in the future- you know, scared of everything I don’t understand. I realised how much of a git I was being and figured the best place to start would be with apologising. You were definitely at the top of the list of people who deserved an apology so here I am. I am sorry, Harry, I really am.”  
The strangest thing was that Harry did believe him. Still reeling a little from this unexpected discovery - his cousin has a heart? - he nodded.  
“Thanks, Dud.”  
“Do you think- Might you believe me?” Dudley asked, suddenly looking very nervous again, “one day, I mean.”  
Harry smiled. “I believe you, Dud. I haven’t quite forgiven you yet, but I believe you.”  
“I can work with that. Hey- could you tell me about it?”  
“-about what?”  
“Magic.”   
“Really? Magic?”  
“Yeah. I told you, it is pretty cool. I want to know what you’re going to be learning all year while I’m stuck in maths or whatever. And could you- I mean- Maybe you could call sometimes?”  
This time Harry really was struck speechless. Dudley wanted him to call? Today was turning out to be almost as strange as a giant pounding down the front door of a rented shack to tell him he had been accepted to wizard school. Harry shook his head slightly - trying to shake some semblance of normalcy back into his life - and stood up from the bench extending his arm towards his cousin.  
“Hello, I’m Harry Potter. Nice to meet you,” he said, grinning widely. “Would you like to come upstairs and read some magic books with me?”  
Dudley laughed and took Harry’s outstretched hand, nodding his head.  
***  
It was a few hours later that Aunt Petunia poked her head around the door of her son’s second bedroom. Usually the quietest room in the house, it was disturbing to hear something like laughter floating down the hallway, so she had set out to investigate the source of the trouble. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she took in the scene before her. The freak and Dudley were sat on opposite ends of the small bed. There were books spread out all around them and the snowy owl that the boy had brought home from his shopping trip was perched on one of his outstretched legs.  
“Diddy!” she screeched. “Diddy- What on earth are you doing?”  
Dudley looked up, confusion etched upon his face. “I’m reading,” he said, pointing at the book propped open on his lap.   
“But- What?” Aunt Petunia was feeling distinctly light-headed, how dare that freak corrupt her little boy!   
“It’s fantastic, mum! Did you know there was such thing as a Goblin Rebellion? More than one! I’m reading Harry’s school books so I know what he will be doing in class when he goes and- Mum?” Dudley was looking at his mother with concern on his face, for she seemed to have been so shocked that she could not move. “I think I need to put her to bed,” Dudley mused, a sly grin on his face, “we might have shocked her a little.” Dudley noticed, as he led his mother out the room and shut the door, that he could still hear his cousin’s chuckling from the other end of the hallway. He smiled, glad of his decision to start fresh with Harry, and started plotting how to make his parents behave when his cousin came back next summer.


	5. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So due to popular request (and my own decidedly less comfortable eyes since I went back and checked on it) the formatting of this fic has been changed to something hopefully less of an eye-sore from here on out. My apologies for the last four chapters though because I really cannot be bothered to go back and redo it all. Also, I apologise for the late updating of this chapter, I have not been very well and got a little sidetracked in my writing. Forgive me?

Being friends with Dudley was one of the strangest developments Harry had ever encountered. It was now the 31st of August and Harry was watching his cousin read a book, a phenomenon in itself, whilst combing through his bedroom to ensure that he had not left anything out of his trunk other than the satchel which he would be keeping with him on the train tomorrow. In one of the books he had purchased from Diagon Alley, Harry had read that to get onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express, it was necessary to walk through a brick wall. Dudley was now re-reading this chapter and periodically exclaiming that “They can’t be serious…” and “it’s a joke. It’s all a joke to make us look ridiculous. They’ll watch you slam into it then come pouring out from the crowd with cameras and microphones laughing at you. It must be a joke”.  
Harry wasn’t feeling much more convinced about the method of getting onto the platform either, but he was trying to keep his cool at least. The idea of walking into a brick wall was still a bit unnerving, though.  
Following his trip to Diagon Alley, Harry and Dudley had been into the nearby Asda and collected some muggle clothing, including a few pairs of warm pyjamas, one in each blue, green and black like the clothes the woman in Diagon had chosen. He also bought a thick woolen cardigan that could be worn under his robes in the winter and would keep him much warmer than the thin jumpers he had already bought, a navy fleece dressing gown, two pairs of black joggers for sports, a pair of fullback slippers with fleece innards (which Dudley was actually jealous of, so Harry got a pair for him too) and three large bath towels, since he did not have a towel of his own at the Dursleys’ so thought it best to have a couple with him. While he was there, he also picked up some envelopes, and a ‘Stationary Box’, which was a grey box file which came with everything he could need- 10 grey spiral notebooks, erasers, pencil sharpeners, a fold-able ruler, a grey pencil case, mini staplers and staples, pencils, ballpoint pens, two black marker pens, two highlighters and five blocks of lined sticky notes. Harry was quite impressed when he still managed to leave the supermarket with over £30, but was very pleased with his purchases and knew that all would come in handy at Hogwarts.  
As Harry checked his trunk for a final time, he felt ready to tackle a new year. Ignoring his cousin who was still sat at the end of his bed with an open book, he curled up on his pillow and fell into a deep, contented sleep.  
.oO0Oo.  
Harry awoke early the next morning, smiling widely when he caught sight of the sunny sky outside his window. Uncle Vernon had begrudgingly agreed to drive Harry into London so he didn’t have to get the train into London with his trunk first and then try to haul it across the city, which meant that they would be leaving for the station at 09:00. It wouldn’t take much more than an hour and a half to get there, but Harry didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck in any traffic, for surely there was nothing wrong with getting on the train early. Smiling to himself still, Harry checked the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was almost half past seven, so he stretched lazily and got up ready to cook breakfast. Although Harry hadn’t been cooking so much since Hagrid’s visit, he decided today it was worth the effort- although he would definitely be joining the Dursleys for breakfast this time. As he passed Dudley’s room, he stuck his head inside and called out.   
“Dudley,” he called, softly, “breakfast in twenty minutes.” Backing out again, he started quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was a little shocked to see his aunt at the table already with a slice of toast, sipping a tall mug of coffee. Though she would never admit it, Harry knew that his aunt wasn’t particularly functional until after her first cup of coffee and was never quite as harsh, so he knew this must be the second by the ferocity of the glare she sent his way.   
“Good morning Aunt Petunia,” he chirped, for even she wasn’t going to spoil his mood today, “Did you sleep well?”   
Aunt Petunia didn’t respond in words, just glared again. Ah thought Harry, maybe not quite the second coffee after all. He ignored her as he prepped the stove, pulling eggs and bacon from the fridge and ruffling through the cupboards for Uncle Vernon’s favored black pudding accompaniment. Harry didn’t know exactly what was in the sauce his uncle ate with breakfast, but it smelled awful enough that he didn’t particularly care so long as it never touched his plate.  
As Harry poured his Aunt another mug of coffee, he heard the pounding on the stairs that signaled Dudley’s arrival. It was funny how now, the sound that used to cause him fear only settled him. Dudley had transformed from his tormentor into his protector, a buffer between Harry and his parents. Harry grinned again as Dudley came bouncing into the kitchen, and held out a glass of orange juice for him. Dudley nodded his head in thanks, and carried it over to the table to sit with his mother. Not more than a few minutes later, breakfast was ready, served up on four plates of which one was placed in the oven so it could be kept warm for his Uncle. Harry ate quickly and quietly, washed the dishes, and dashed back upstairs. He was so excited to go to Hogwarts, nothing was happening fast enough!  
After a long shower, for which he caught yet another glare from his aunt, Harry dressed in a pair of jeans and green T-shirt with his new ‘Hyde’ boots, whilst making a futile attempt to comb his messy hair. It wasn’t a cold day, so Harry packed his thick cloak away but kept one of his uniform robes in his satchel because he had a feeling he would be told to change into it for the arrival at the school. Also in his satchel he had packed a notebook and pen, his copy of Magical Droughts and Potions, Potions Ingredients: A Basic Guide, and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. He had read all of his books so far and some more than once but since he was finding so much crossover between his Potions and Herbology texts, Harry wanted to explore this more and make some notes that might help when it came to his classes. He would have done so before, but was more concentrating on gaining some basic knowledge, plus he thought this would be a good way to pass the time on the train since he wasn’t sure how long it would take to get there anyway. Harry had been a little surprised that even after combing through his copy of Hogwarts; A History, he could not find any reference to the actual location of the school apart from the fact that it was in Great Britain.   
Soon enough, though not for Harry, it was time to leave, Dudley and Harry were hauling the large trunk into the back of Uncle Vernon’s car and Aunt Petunia was looking around as though it pained her for such a thing to be happening in full view of the neighbors. It was quiet on the drive to Kings Cross, Dudley seeming to realise that his parents’ nerves would not be able to tolerate his asking more questions about the school. When they arrived at the station, Harry climbed out on shaky legs. This is it, he thought. Dudley climbed out the car and pulled a trolley towards them, for Harry to load his trunk onto. It may not actually have been very heavy, but it looked it. A small eleven year old boy carrying a large trunk through the station without a second thought would surely bring too much attention.  
Harry slowed a little as he and Dudley approached the barrier that was said to lead to Platform 9 ¾. “Um, Dud, what if it really is a joke?” He turned his worried eyes on his cousin, who smiled.  
“Well then they went to a lot of trouble, Harry, I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll even come with you.” Harry gave him a shaky nod of thanks and turned back. With one last deep breath, he and Dudley started surely towards the brick wall ahead of them. Harry closed his eyes, but the crash never came. Then he felt Dudley pulling on his sleeve. “Harry, Harry open your eyes oh my god!” Harry looked up to see a gleaming red steam engine, emblazoned with the words ‘The Hogwarts Express’. It was real. It was truly real.   
After sharing a look with his cousin, Harry headed for the train and both of them hauled the trunk through the doors into an empty compartment. The compartments were large and each could probably eight to ten people around the large tables in the middle. There were racks overhead for luggage, so between them the boys pushed the trunk up and secured it in place. Then Harry placed his satchel on the table and walked Dudley back to the barrier, noticing that there seemed to be a lot of people on the platform by now. “Well,” he said, “I guess this is it ‘til next year.”  
“You will write, won’t you?”   
“Of course Dudley, I might have to send it with an owl but I will definitely write to you. If I send an owl you’ll have to write back quick so it can bring the letter to me on its way home.” Dudley nodded. Then, surprising Harry completely, he pulled the smaller boy into a hug. “Have a good year, Harry.” A moment later, he had disappeared back through the barrier towards his parents, so Harry turned back towards the train.  
.oO0Oo.  
When he arrived back at the compartment it was to see a girl with bushy hair peering inside.  
“Can I help you?” he asked from just behind her.  
The girl startled a little, spinning around to face him. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, is this your compartment? I could see the bag but there was nobody here and I wasn’t sure.”  
“Yes, this is me,” Harry replied, strolling past her to sit in the corner by the window. “You’re welcome to sit in here though, I’m only going to be reading.”  
The girl smiled at him. “Sounds like a plan, I’m Hermione and I was only going to read as well, I don’t know how far away the school is but I don’t want to be unprepared.”  
“I’m Harry, and I second that. Have you read anything already?” he asked. “I have read all the books so far because I was so worried about not knowing what everyone was talking about, but now I am rereading about the plants and herbs in potions because I find it fascinating. And I’m talking too much, sorry.”  
The girl, Hermione, laughed. “Don’t worry I do that a lot too. Did you come from a muggle home? I didn’t know anything about magic at all until they came over the summer with my letter and I was so shocked I’m still trying to catch up! My parents are dentists.”  
“I did. Well, my parents are magical but they died when I was young and so I live with my mum’s sister and her husband. They hate magic so they never told me anything about it until Hagrid came to me this summer with my letter. My cousin thinks its all really cool and he wants me to write but my aunt and uncle just pretend nothing is happening. It’s actually a little funny. My uncle works for some drill company but my aunt is a housewife. Who does remarkably little cleaning.”  
Hermione laughed brightly. “Well it’s nice to meet you Harry. I’m glad I’m not going into this alone.”  
“Me too, Hermione.” he replied, leaning back into his seat and pulling his notebook and pens from the satchel at his side. “So what are you reading for the journey?”  
Hermione pulled out a gleaming copy of the defense text, waving it towards him. “It’s quite dry so I struggled through it the first time. I hope the class is a bit less monotonous but I wanted to try reading through this again so I have a proper understanding before we go, you know?”  
Harry laughed. “Oh I thought that book was awful! But Magical Theory sounded like sawdust and I absolutely loved it! Surely it’s meant to be the other way around? I totally agree with you though.” Hermione smiled as well, settling back into her seat with her legs drawn up against her chest, the book resting on the edge of the table.   
Before long the train was on the move, pulling away from the station. Harry could hear people walking up and down the corridor and was glad that he had chosen a compartment relatively close to the end of the train where there was less foot traffic. He was jostled out of his reading a few minutes later however when the door to the compartment was pulled back and a tanned boy with dark hair poked his head inside. Upon seeing the two sat quietly with books out he straightened up and addressed them.   
“Do you mind if I join you readers in here? There doesn’t seem to be another quiet compartment and I’m starting to get a headache already.”  
Harry nodded at the boy, who entered and sat beside Hermione, before adopting a similarly curled position against the backrest and pulling an old-looking book out of his rucksack. It was nice to sit in the quiet company, thought Harry, glancing up at the boy and Hermione. Harry wondered if it would last. Harry looked back towards his notebook, pulling a pen from his bag and scribbling down Interactions to avoid: at the top of his page. Before he could copy down the ingredients from his book - the ones that suggested likely explosions if not handled properly - the boy spoke up.   
“What in the world is that?” He was looking at the pen in Harry’s hand as though it was something from another planet. Harry frowned.   
“My pen?”   
“What does it do?”   
Harry could see that Hermione was trying not to giggle in the corner, but failing. “Well, it writes. Do you- do you not use pens or something?”  
“Where does the ink come from? Is that some kind of new quill or something?”  
Hermione couldn’t help herself from laughing out loud at this, and the boy glared when Harry started chuckling a little too. “The ink is inside the pen, so it works like a quill but means you don’t have to carry around open ink pots and things. Handy for note taking and the like. Do wizards really not use pens? I know the list said Quills but… not at all?”  
The boy was shaking his head. “I have never seen one of those in my life. Is it a muggle thing?”   
“Seems to be-” started Harry. “Muggles haven’t been known to use quills for about a century. Everyone uses these nowadays.”   
“Can I see it?”  
Harry chuckled again, “Sure” he said, passing the pen and his notebook across so the boy could study it. Hermione was shaking her head in the corner.   
“I can’t believe wizards don’t use pens,” she muttered.   
The boy looked at the other two in the carriage. “Are you two from muggle families then?”   
Hermione nodded, but Harry shrugged. “I have wizard parents but they died so I only found out about magic and stuff when I got my letter. My family wanted to keep it quiet. You’re from a wizarding family then?”  
“Blaise Zambini,” the other boy replied with a nod, “nice to meet you both.”   
“Hermione Granger, muggle-born” Hermione smiled at him too, and gestured to Harry for him to introduce himself also.   
“Oh! Sorry, Harry Potter.”  
The silence was deafening. “What?” Harry asked, noticing the compartment’s other two residents staring at him.   
“You’re Harry Potter?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh wow.”   
“What? I’m just Harry.” Blaise seemed to consider him for a moment, then nodded.   
“Okay. Nice to meet you anyway.” Then, without another word, he went back to his book, sliding Harry’s notebook and pen back across the table. Hermione seemed to hold her gaze on him for a moment longer, but she too stayed quiet. Before long, all three of them had returned to their reading and the compartment stayed quiet. Harry wondered what it was about him that had the two staring, but decided not to bother with questions. He would surely find out eventually if there was importance about it and there was no reason to anger his travel-mates with inundated questions that he should know the answers to.   
A few hours later there was a knock at the door and a plump witch with a kind face slid it open. “Anything off the trolley, dears?” Hermione shook her head, face still hidden by her book, but Harry stood and made his way into the corridor. It had been a while since breakfast now and he wasn’t sure what time they would be arriving at the school but he was starting to feel a little peckish. He selected a pumpkin pasty and a ‘chocolate frog from the array of items there and paid the lady with five silver sickles. Then he headed back inside the compartment. Holding up the frog, he waved at Blaise.  
“They’re not real frogs, are they?”  
The boy smirked. “Why don’t you find out?”  
Warily, Harry opened the package. He almost jumped as the frog jumped up and out of the cardboard, landing on the table in front of him.  
“You can eat it,” Blaise said from his corner. “It’s just a charm that makes it jump but as soon as you bite it will turn revert to solid chocolate.”  
Smiling his thanks, Harry grabbed the frog off the table and bit. It did indeed revert back to a simple frog shaped chocolate bar, but was still very tasty. He supposed he should have eaten the pastry first, but since there were no adults to tell him otherwise he decided he should let himself off just this once. Harry relaxed and watched the scenery as he munched on his pasty. He estimated that he had been on the express for probably five or six hours now, surely they couldn’t have much further to go? If they stayed on the train for much longer Harry would be sure they had left Britain at the very least. Almost as the thought struck him, a voice came from above them.  
If you would please ensure all your belongings are together and you are changed into your uniforms, we will be approaching Hogsmeade station in twenty minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up to the school separately.  
Harry started stowing all his things back into his satchel, pulling his robe out but neatly stacking his books inside. Once he had ensured everything was neatly contained, he reached up and pulled his trunk down from the overhead racks, unlocking it and putting his satchel on top of the contents. Then, re-locking it quickly, he pulled his robes over his clothes. Blaise was looking at him with another smirk.  
“What?”   
“Get ready for your big introduction, Potter.”   
Harry shook his head. “Harry, just Harry, I don’t know why ‘Harry Potter’ is famous but I’m just Harry, okay?”  
Blaise considered him for a moment, then nodded. “Well then, just Harry, it’s time for school.”  
.oO0Oo.  
“Firs’ year” called a loud voice over the platform, “Firs’ year over ‘ere please. Firs’ year wi’ me.”  
Harry smiled to himself as he noticed Hagrid’s towering form across the platform. Did he get taller since July? Blaise and Hermione were pulling ahead, so Harry focused on catching up with them. Hagrid seemed to be counting as small figures crept towards him, likely intimidated by his size, but soon he called out again. “I think tha’ be everyone now, keep up ‘n we’ll be alrigh’ for the boats. Follow me now”  
As the collective followed Hagrid down a slippy path, it seemed very quiet. Harry was sure they were surrounded by trees but it was too dark to see much other than the bobbing light of Hagrid’s lantern up ahead. A boy next to Harry seemed to be sniffling a little.   
“Are you ok?” Harry whispered.  
“Yes-” a feeble voice replied. “I don’t much like the dark is all.”   
“It’ll be fine with Hagrid,” Harry replied, reaching out a hand to grasp the boy’s arm comfortingly. “He won’t let anything happen. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let the fear consume you.”   
There was another sniffle, then- “that was profound. But thank you.”  
“It’s okay, I’m scared of large bodies of water though, so how ‘bout you keep your head for me whilst we climb into those tiny boats up ahead and I’ll keep my head when it’s dark?”  
Harry heard a small laugh. “That works for me. What’s your name?”  
“Harry, yours?”   
“I’m Neville.”   
“Nice to meet you Neville.”  
By now, Harry could see the people at the front of the group climbing into the boats he had spotted. They were still under the shadow of a large willow so he couldn’t see far ahead but it still looked like they had a fairly big lake or river to cross in them. He hadn’t been lying to Neville, he really did hate large bodies of water, so he tried not to look around much as he slipped into a boat behind Hermione and alongside Neville. Blaise seemed to have chosen the boat next to theirs.   
“Everybody in?” called Hagrid’s loud voice, “Righ’ then. Forward!”   
All at once, the fleet of little boats moved off, gliding across the still water. Harry was looking pointedly at the floor, reciting the notes he had written on the train.   
“Porcupine quills need to be added after the potion has been taken off the heat. Salamander scales can only be added after lacewing flies have stabilized the snake fangs. Oh god. Peel the shrivelfig before chopping the bat spleen or it-” Harry was cut off by a collective gasp.  
“Harry, look up, it’s Hogwarts!” Neville’s whisper was comforting, and Harry glanced upwards too. His eyes widened. Sat on the edge of a small cliff was a huge castle. Turrets and towers and stone walls seemed to span forever. Harry was so taken aback by the beauty he didn’t even notice that the boats had stopped until Neville tapped his shoulder. Quickly pulling himself upright, he stepped out of the boat. Noticing a shape on the floor, he called out.   
“Has anyone lost a toad?”  
Neville laughed beside him, “oh that’s Trevor, he’s mine. Thanks.”  
Harry smiled, and then started following the rest of the group up the stairs. They were soon stopped at a huge door upon which Hagrid knocked three times.


	6. The Talking Hat

Chapter Six: The Talking Hat

Harry managed not to gape as the doors to the entrance hall swung open, but it was a close call. It was a stern looking woman who had opened the door and now stood surveying the students, however, Harry was barely paying attention to her as he gazed openly at the space into which they had emerged. The entrance hall was lit with torches which lined the stone walls similarly to the ones in Gringotts. To the right, there was a marvelous marble staircase leading to the upper floors. To the left was an alcove into which a few chairs had been pushed as well as a small table that might have made a nice place to sit for coffee and watch the sunrise over the lake, which could be seen glimmering darkly through the large window there. Ahead were a set of huge oak doors, from which the sound of a hundred chattering students could be heard. Harry assumed that was where they would be taking dinner. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said the voice of the woman who had opened the door. “I am Professor McGonagall, I teach Transfiguration and am also the Deputy Headmistress. The start of term banquet should begin shortly, but before this happens will be the Sorting Ceremony. Hogwarts has four houses, one for each of our founding fathers. Rowena Ravenclaw seeks to house those who have a deep thirst for knowledge, Salazar Slytherin wants to preserve those with cunning and great ambition, Godric Gryffindor encourages those who have true bravery in their hearts and Helga Hufflepuff loves those who are hardworking and loyal in earnest. While you are here, your house will be like your family. You will eat, sleep and attend classes with them. You will grow together, for each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards. And together you will aim to win the house cup, which is awarded at the end of each year based on house point accumulation. If you break the rules, you lose points, where you shall also gain points for your triumphs. Please ready yourselves and ensure you look your best, as I shall be returning in just a moment and the sorting ceremony will begin.”

Professor McGonagall turned and left the room and Harry heard Neville behind him. “Oh I hope I get into Gryffindor, my gran would be so upset if I didn’t.”

“Why?” asked Harry.

“Well, my mum and dad were Gryffindors and she wants me to live up to their memory, to make them proud.”

“But surely going into the right house for you would make her prouder. There is no point going to a house that will nurture the wrong skills for you. I know more about the founders than the houses really, but even I know that the sorting hat will only put you somewhere you really belong. It explained the charms used on the hat to help with sorting in Hogwarts: A History, apparently Gryffindor himself cast them. Surely it would be better to allow it to do so and make your parents proud by doing the things you’re meant to do. The things you are good at because you love them.”

Neville said nothing, only staring at Harry with a pensive look on his face, but Professor McGonagall had returned so Harry didn’t have the chance to ask why he was looking as such. He did, however, notice a sandy haired boy listening to him quite carefully from where he was standing behind a shorted, white-blonde boy. Harry shrugged to himself, and lined up to enter the great hall.

Harry had read all about the great hall in a few of his books, but nothing could compare to seeing it for the first time. It was like walking into something out of a dream. If Hogwarts castle was magnificent, it was nothing compared to this. The ceiling, bewitched to look like the sky outside, shone with a thousand stars. Four long tables were running the length of the room, with another longer table at the front at which sat the staff. Hagrid could be seen in a very large chair at one end smiling brightly at the entering first years. Above the four student tables each hung a flag of a different color, and Harry recognized the crests of the house families. It was truly something else. As they reached the front of the room, Harry noticed a small stool upon which sat a grubby looking hat. The room had gone very quiet, for the hat began to sing; 

Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none) 

For I’m a Thinking Cap!

The great hall burst into applause. After a few moments, Professor McGonagall read the first name off a roll of parchment.

“Abbott, Hannah.” A blonde girl walked shakily up and sat on the stool in front of Professor McGonagall, who had lifted the sorting hat above her head. Once the girl was sitting, Professor McGonagall set the hat upon her head, and they waited. After a few moments the hat shouted out;

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the far right cheered happily as the girl bounced across the hall towards them. Harry saw a ghost waving cheerily at her. 

“Bones, Susan.” “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Boot, Terry.” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Brocklehurst, Mandy.” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Brown, Lavender.” “GRYFFINDOR!”

This time the table on the far left exploded with cheers. Harry noted that sometimes the hat called out a house very quickly, whereas with some people it was taking a bit more time. 

“Bullstrode, Millicent.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Corner, Michael.” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Crabbe, Vincent.” It was the sandy haired boy who had been listening to his conversation with Neville out in the hall. The hat seemed to deliberate for a little while, this time, but eventually it decided on “HUFFLEPUFF!” The boy looked quite relieved about his placement and walked smiling over to his new house.

“Davis, Tracey.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Entwhistle, Kevin.” “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin.” “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Finnegan, Seamus.” “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Goldstein, Anthony.” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Goyle, Gregory.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Granger, Hermione.” The hat seemed to take a while here too, but alas “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Greengrass, Daphne.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Li, Sue.” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Longbottom, Neville.” “GRYFFINDOR!” called out the hat, almost immediately. Harry smiled inwardly, that would boost his friend’s confidence a little at least. 

“Macmillan, Ernie.” “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Malfoy, Draco.” “RAVENCLAW!” Harry heard a gasp from somewhere behind him, but paid it no mind.

“Nott, Theodore.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Parkinson, Pansy.” “SLYTHERIN!”

“Patil, Padma” “RAVENCLAW!”

“Patil, Pavarti.” “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Perks, Sally-Anne.” “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Potter, Harry.” The room seemed to explode into whispers. “The Harry Potter?” could be heard from all around. Harry saw Blaise smirk as he stepped forward to take a seat. The room silenced as the hat fell down over his eyes, but then- “Hello Harry Potter”. Harry almost jumped out of his seat, and was a little irritated that he could hear the hat chuckling at him. “Well how do you expect me to sort you without talking to you a little bit. I daresay you had a bit of an impact on Mr Crabbe already my boy. Now you are a difficult one- Ravenclaw would be a fit but I don’t know if it would really push you to your potential, certainly you’re brave enough for Gryffindor but maybe… No I know, You’d most certainly do well in SLYTHERIN!” 

Harry did notice as he walked to his house table that he seemed to be getting a lot of odd looks. Maybe he would have to talk to Blaise and ask some questions after all- this just wasn’t making sense! Why were people so interested in him?

A couple of minutes later and “Thomas, Dean” had been made a Gryffindor, “Turpin, Lisa” a Ravenclaw, “Weasley, Ronald” a Hufflepuff and “Zambini, Blaise” a Slytherin. Then the headmaster stood. It was obvious that he was the headmaster to anyone who entered the room, he was sat in the very middle of the staff table in a high backed chair and he had an extraordinarily long beard of silver. 

“Welcome to another year,” he greeted. “A few start of term notices before you gorge yourselves on fantastic foods if you please. Firstly, please note that this year the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds. This is for safety reasons, so please so heed the warning. For those of you to regularly forget, and of course for those who have not yet been told, please note that The Forest is out of bounds to all students at all times. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Now, please eat-” The headmaster spread his hands and the dishes up and down the table were all of a sudden laden with every type of food you could possibly desire. 

Harry turned to Blaise at once. “Will you tell me why everyone is so interested in me? I mean, I didn’t want to ask on the train because it didn’t feel important but I am really starting to feel like I am missing something.” 

Blaise looked at Harry incredulously. “You mean you actually don’t know? I thought you just didn’t care for attention, you mean to tell me you have no idea who you are?”

“I’m Harry,” Harry said simply, “what do you mean who I am? I only found out last month that my parents were magical but that’s all I know about them. Well, that and the fact they died in a car crash when I was a baby. Is there something particularly interesting about me or something?”

Harry noticed a few more people looking at him in shock now, it was starting to get a little irritating. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I- Potter your parents didn’t die in a car crash. I know you don’t know much about magic yet and I know this is going to irritate you but I think we should have this conversation after dinner. With Professor Snape. You need to know and I’m probably not the best person to tell you, okay?”

Harry nodded, confused. He served some of the salad onto his plate but didn’t do much more than pick at it. What on earth was everybody going on about? What was this about his parents not dying in a car crash? It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that his aunt and uncle had lied to him, but what else had they lied about? Harry was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn’t really notice the hall quietening down, until Blaise pulled him up gently by the shoulder and lead him towards the doors where the newly sorted first year Slytherins were standing with a tall, brunette girl. 

“I’m Gemma and I’m one of the sixth year prefects. Follow me and I will lead you to the Slytherin common rooms.” She turned and walked into the entrance hall and through a door to the right opposite the marble staircase. They descended a stone staircase which led to what looked like the dungeons. A moment later the girl’s voice could be heard again. 

“The passage to the left here leads to Professor Snape’s classroom and office, but we are going to head a little deeper into the dungeons for our home. It’s not difficult to find your way, but it is worth noting that the common room entrance is five torches from that passageway, because it is easy to get confused and say the password to a normal wall. I promise that will leave you feeling pretty ridiculous, but don’t feel too bad because most of us did the same back in our first year. The password right now is Demiguise” she said this at the wall, which swung inwards to reveal a passageway. After about a meter, it opened up into a large room. The room was filled with black leather armchairs and sofas, an entire wall on one side was covered top to bottom in bookshelves filled with books. For the first time since dinner, Harry felt himself engaging with the room around him. Laying across the backs of sofas were big fleece blankets, plump cushions and Harry even spotted a few bean bags laying around the room. 

One wall, the one directly in front of the entrance, was completely glass and looked into a lake of some sort. Harry assumed it was the same lake they had crossed to get to the castle, but didn’t mind it so much from this vantage point. 

“The password will change weekly and it is up to you to check the noticeboard to find out what the next one will be.” The prefect continued once the first years had looked around a little, “Slytherin house is looked down upon because of our history, so we stick together. This is very important. Any issues with anyone in this house stay down here, because up there we promote a united front. The teachers and students are biased against us, so we protect our own. If you ever have a problem, find me or one of the other prefects, or Professor Snape if not. He will help you, as will we, to the best of our ability. We are strong alone but stronger together. We are also sly, so whilst I will tell you not to break rules I know you won’t listen and I will instead tell you that you are to be careful when you do so. If you get caught, you won’t like the consequences. You each have your own bedroom through those archways,” she motioned to two identical arches either side of the wall of glass, “boys to the left, girls to the right. You will be in the same bedroom for all of your time here, so don’t piss off your neighbors. Professor Snape will be here in a moment to say hello to you all, but I think that is everything from me. Ah, if there is ever a problem where you the professor down here in an emergency, there is a portrait at the end of every hall of bedrooms which will be able to find him far more quickly than your little legs, so keep them in mind if you need them.” 

“Thank you, Miss Farley,” said a deep voice behind the first years, “I will take it from here.”

Harry almost jumped. He had been paying so much attention to the prefect that he hadn’t noticed the door open at all. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one, for Pansy Parkinson let out a little shriek and even Blaise looked shocked for a moment, before he schooled his expression. 

“Welcome to Slytherin House. To those of you who don’t know, I am Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. We are a family in these rooms and if you have any problems at any time please know you can approach me. To those in other houses, we present a united front as Miss Farley explained, but that does not mean you will never have a problem with someone in this room. I hope that you deal with it as maturely as possible, but we are on hand to help if necessary. You may also know that since the other teachers are biased against our house, I am biased towards it. I will never take points away from Slytherin house. That being said if you deserve it I will put you in detention scrubbing cauldrons until your hands bleed. Do your best and we will never have a problem. It is late, so I will remain down here if you have any questions but now feel free to go to bed.”

Professor Snape nodded at the gathered students, who quickly dispersed. All apart from Blaise who pulled Harry toward where Gemma and the professor were standing. 

“Professor, Could you help me with something please?” Blaise asked quietly.

The professor looked down his nose, “What is it?” he asked, eyeing Harry speculatively.

 

“Harry doesn’t know who his parents are or why he is famous.” Harry still didn’t know what Blaise was talking about, but he would never forget the look of utmost shock on Professor Snape’s wide-eyed face.


	7. The Talk (No Not That One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just been informed that it is Blaise Zabini, not Zambini. My apologies. I will try and correct it from here on out but since I have been under the impression that it is Zambini for the last 15 years or so… Please forgive me, however feel free to call me out if I mess up again.

“Mr. Zabini, did you just say that Mr. Potter does not know why he is famous?”

“Yes.” The professor was looking at Harry as though he had just grown horns.

“Mr. Potter?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even know I was famous until dinner, but I don’t know anything about this world. Not other than what I have read in the last month or so anyway. I mean, I know people have been looking at me funny but I thought it was because they could tell I was from a muggle family or something- why would I be famous? I’m just Harry.”

Professor Snape raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed for a moment. “Mr. Potter, please follow me. You are in need of an explanation and myself a headache drought. Mr. Zabini, I shall return young Mr. Potter shortly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Then,turning sharply towards the entrance passage, the professor strode away.

He led Harry down two corridors and through a classroom to what was obviously an office, although it was the strangest office Harry had ever been in. There were hundreds of tiny jars lining the walls with all manor of potions ingredients and Harry could spot three simmering cauldrons on one desk, which each seemed to be holding a different potion- or at least the same potion at three separate stages of brewing. The professor waved him toward a hardback chair opposite a large plush number residing behind the desk in the center of the room, and Harry sat down. 

“Sir, did I do something wrong?”

“Why-ever would you think that?”

“Well to be honest sir, since we entered this room you have been looking a little stressed, I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t something I had done.”

“No, Mr Potter,” Snape sighed, “It is not something you have done. Tell me, with whom have you been living for the last ten years?”

“My Aunt and Uncle’s, sir.”

“Petunia’s?”

“You know her?”

“Unfortunately.” 

“Oh, well, yes. Her.”

“And does dear Petunia still despise anything to do with magic, or has she at least grown up some in the last decade?”

“I would say she doesn't like it much sir, she never told me about magic or anything and they said my parents died in a car crash but Blaise says that isn’t true. Has she always been like that?”

“Sadly, it would seem so. She wasn't happy that your mother came to Hogwarts but she couldn't, although I had hoped she would grow up somewhat in time.”

“Erm-” Harry faltered. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Apologies, we best start at the beginning for that tale. When I was a child I lived in a place called Cokeworth, just down the road from your mother. We were friends, in childhood, as I was the first to reveal the wizarding world to her. She flew off a swing one day so I yelled at her that she was a witch- suffice to say she didn't take tit very well until I explained what I meant by that. So, following that, your mother and I grew up together and came to Hogwarts together- we were in the same year but different classes. When we came to school I was sorted into Slytherin, and your mother Gryffindor. So was your father, and this is why everybody tonight was expecting you to join the lions.”

“But-” Harry interrupted, “surely just having your parents in one house doesn’t mean you will end up there too?”

“It doesn’t, but it also can do. People regularly follow in the footsteps of their parents, although this does not seem to be the case for this current year. It was an interesting ceremony all around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a few of your fellow first years were sorted outside of where they were expected to go. It shall make for an interesting term.”

“I think that is a good thing. It means they will grow to nurture the skills they favor, rather than the ones their families have told them to favor, does it not?” Professor Snape seemed to be considering him closely again as he spoke, but Harry ignored him and after a moment, he replied.

“It does indeed. Well put, but not everyone will see it this way. People are very concerned with tradition, and not always willing to accept change.”

“Oh.” Harry sat quietly for a few seconds, then remembered why they were there. “Could you tell me more about my mother now sir? What was her name?”

“You don’t even? Goodness. Her name was Lily Evans, and your father was James Potter. Honestly Potter, I am not the best person to tell you about your father as we never got on, but I can tell you anything about your mother that you may wish to know. I can get in touch with an old classmate who I am sure will be able to tell you plenty about your father though, alright?”

“Alright, sir. Thank you.”

“Good. So Lily was sorted into Gryffindor and she and your father didn’t get on until later into their sixth year. He was quite immature until then and your mother was not the most patient person in the world, she had a fiery temper. Goodness knows I ended up on the wrong end of it more than once. But come the end of their school days Lily and James had grown to like each other and they became a couple about halfway through their final year. Unfortunately there was a war going on. A very evil wizard was gaining strength and trying to take over the wizarding world, he is often referred to as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His real name was Lord Voldemort, a name he coined himself from the name of Tom Riddle which is what he was born. Nobody refers to him as either of these names, because the wizarding world at large is still scared.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still. It was only a decade ago and people were vanishing almost daily, but this is where the story gets a bit grim. I beg you not to judge me too harshly, Mr Potter, for I was a foolish boy and made awful choices. I would prefer you not know but it is important for you to understand what happened. The Dark Lord offered power and protection, he offered me refuge from my awful father, so I turned to him. I fell out with your mother over it, convinced I was making the right choice, but it was already too late by the time I came to my senses.”

“You did come to your senses though, sir? You turned away from him?”

“Eventually, Potter, but not soon enough. One night there was a job interview happening at the Hogs Head Inn, which is down in the village, which the Dark Lord had ordered me to spy upon. It was for the post of a divination teacher, one who still resides here as a matter of fact, but this is not something she must ever be aware of, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Right. A prophecy was made in the meeting, the first half of which I overheard. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...' Before I could hear the rest, I was kicked out of the pub. As ordered, I returned to the Dark Lord and told him of the prophecy. He was most displeased, deciding that he must rid himself of this threat. There were two people due to give birth that year at the end of July, Lily was one of them. The other was a woman by the name of Alice Longbottom. From what I’d heard, either could have been the one to defeat him, and I begged him not to harm Lily, but the Dark Lord would not take the chance of somebody being around to defeat him. He swore to kill the children who fit the criteria, meaning yourself and Mr Longbottom.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. He entered your home on Halloween that year and killed your father, then your mother, but when he tried he was unable to kill you. That is why you are famous, Potter, they coined The-Boy-Who-Lived as your title. You are the only person in the world to have survived the killing curse.”

“What about the Longbottom kid?”

“The Dark Lord never got his chance, as when he tried to kill you he was destroyed. Nobody has seen hide nor hair of him since and those of us in his service were released- those who weren't imprisoned anyway. There is more for you to know though, Potter, because there is a chance that the Dark Lord will return one day, it is unlikely that he is truly dead.”

“Fabulous..” Harry muttered. The professor smirked.

“Quite. The rest of the prophecy, 'and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....' In short, you are the one prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord. I do not tell you this to scare you, but I feel you must know. I have a feeling the headmaster will not be so forthcoming with information, but I will not have you dying because you have not been adequately prepared. Understood?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Are you alright, Mr. Potter?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I'm sure I will be but- y'know- everything I knew about myself and my parents just got turned around on its head. I think I need to go to bed now. Please.”

“That’s quite alright Mr. Potter, I shall walk you back to the common rooms.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Professor Snape nodded, pulling open the door and leading Harry into the corridor. It wasn’t long before they were back in the common room, mostly empty apart from a few stragglers from the upper years. Professor Snape put a hand on Harry’s shoulder before he could head for the dorms. 

“Should you need anything, Mr Potter, you know where I am.”

Harry nodded, turning quickly and heading down the stairs to the left of the glass wall. He walked a little ways down a dark corridor, lit with torches which were nearly faded out due to the late hour, eventually finding a room with his name etched into the door just above eye level. Instead of a handle, however, there was a snake-head protruding just below the name. When he put his hand on the snake, though it did not twist and allow him entry, it spoke. 

“Password?” 

Harry started. “Do I choose one?” he replied, feeling a little ridiculous at talking to the door.

“You may select your password,” the snake responded.

Harry remembered speaking to the snake at the zoo after Dudley’s birthday and decided to try something. “Does it work like this?” he hissed. 

“Any language will do,” the snake nodded it’s little golden head. “Please select your password.”

“Porcupine Quills” he hissed, and the snake on the door nodded again. A second later the door swung inwards, granting him entry. As he entered he spotted his trunk, set neatly at the end of his bed. He barely noticed the bookshelves which almost reached the ceiling, or the thick rug on the otherwise stone floor. Pulling his robe off and hanging it on the back of the door, Harry kicked off his boots and collapsed face-first onto the bed, still fully clothed, but soundly asleep.


	8. A Good Morning and Finding The Library

Chapter 8: A Good Morning and Finding the Library.

Harry awoke uncomfortable. One leg of his jeans had bunched around his knee and he was tangled in a thick quilt for which it was far too warm. One arm was thrown across the pillow while the other hung limply off the edge of the mattress, the waistband of his jeans dug sharply into his hip and what seemed to be sunlight was shining into his eyes. 

Opening his eyes, Harry realized that there was a strange luminescent-green light coming from a small window above his bedside table, as though the sunlight was shining through a meter or so of lake-water to reach him. He wondered whether his fellow first-years had similar windows. Harry pulled himself up and out of bed and looked around, taking in for the first time his new bedroom. The entire room was decorated in dark green and pale grey. There were two small bedside tables on either side of the bed, each with a small draw underneath, an old brass key in each of the locks. Next to the bedside table- the one that wasn’t underneath the window- was a tall bookcase. It was made of a dark wood and stood at least two feet taller than Harry himself, and further to the right of this, in the corner, was an oak door. Opening it, Harry realized this was just a cupboard, for it held nothing more than a rail and ten wooden clothes-hangers. Against the adjacent wall rested a wide desk and hardback chair. Harry was pleased to notice that it was so wide he could spread multiple open books around him without having to worry about having room to write. In fact, Harry peered around the corner of the large drawers that stood almost directly opposite the bookcase, the desk was so wide it continued all the way back to the wall! He could stack books here too, should his bookcase ever not be enough. 

There was another door too, just to the right of the one he had entered through last night. It did not look large, but did mean that upon entering the bedroom the drawers and desk were hidden around the corner slightly. Harry was expecting another cupboard, so was shocked when he opened the door and the first thing he saw was a large, claw-footed bathtub. Then, to the right, he noticed a small workbench next to the large corner-basin. Opposite this stood the toilet. Harry was amazed, he knew wizard-space was a thing but was not expecting it to be used for the school dormitories. Now he thought about it though, it made sense to use wizard-space when the castle was home to around one hundred and twenty students and who knew how many teachers and staff.

Taking another quick look around, Harry noticed that there was also a shower-head attached to the tub, so heading back into the main room he decided that would be a good place to start. He headed to his trunk and unlocked it, reaching first for his satchel and leaving it on the desk. He hoped there would be time after breakfast to come back to his room and grab his books because he currently had no idea what to bring with him for the day. Dismissing this thought, Harry went back to unloading his trunk. He put his books and stationery all on the desk for now as he would organize it all later, but he did hang his cloak and spare robe in the cupboard, as well as setting both sets of shoes under his bedside table. He stacked all three sets of pyjamas into one of the draws by his bedside table, which he was amused to see were much deeper than they first appeared, hung his dressing gown alongside the cloak on the back of the door and stashed the bath towels on a shelf under the bathroom sink. Then, grabbing his toiletries, he retreated into the bathroom for a long shower. 

As Harry relaxed in the shower, he thought back over the conversation he’d had with Professor Snape the night before. Famous. For not dying. Harry supposed that his recurring nightmare of flashing green light and high, cold laughter may not be as mysterious as once thought. Harry shivered, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to remember that night if what Professor Snape had said was true. Not that he didn’t believe the professor, but he honestly wasn’t sure what to think about everything that he had been told. He also didn’t want to think about the fact that his aunt and uncle had been lying to him all these years, again not because he didn’t believe that they had, but it infuriated him to learn how many things they had kept from him. As Harry walked back into his bedroom he folded yesterday’s jeans on the end of his bed and roughly towel-dried his hair, as he searched through his trunk for a white shirt, school tie and his black trousers. He was surprised to notice that his ties, which had been plain black when he put them in his trunk, were now green and black striped. Harry knew the house elves were good, but that they had managed this without opening or moving anything within his trunk was very impressive.

Once he was dressed and sure he could hear others moving about throughout the corridor, Harry pulled his boots from under the table and pulled them on. He grabbed a fresh notebook from his desk, as well as a pen which he tucked behind his ear, then he headed toward the common room pulling his robe from the door with him. He hissed a “Good morning” to the snake on his door as he passed. 

As he reached the top of the stairs to the common room, Harry came to the conclusion that he was a little ahead of the rest of his year. There were only two other students in the common room, both looked like they may be in their final year and both looked surprised to see him. 

“Early riser, are you?” 

The boy that spoke was tall and seemed to be made entirely of muscle, but he had a kind smile as he spoke to Harry who was looking around a little confused. The other boy didn’t look up from what looked like an essay that he was tracing his finger across and scowling at lightly.

“I thought more people would be up by now. I heard movement,” he said. The older boy chuckled quietly. 

“Not here, certainly. There are surprisingly few early birds in this house, Potter.”

Harry looked around trying to catch sight of a clock, but he couldn’t see one. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Tempus,” the other boy responded, which confused Harry until he saw the boy’s wand glow slightly orange and then numbers appearing in the air ahead of the boy. “Almost a quarter past seven.”

“Wow,” said Harry, “it is quite early. When’s breakfast?”

“You can go now if you’re hungry,” the older boy said, “they serve it from twenty past six until twenty to nine. Professor Snape is an early riser so if you go now you can get your timetable early too. Or you can wait a little bit because it’s the first day so they will serve until about half past nine and you can go with the rest of your year.”

“Thank you- wait, what’s your name?”

“Jigger. Bane Jigger.”

“Well, thanks Bane.”

Bane nodded. “See you ‘round, Potter.” Harry turned and headed back to his bedroom, hissing the password and heading straight for the desk. If he was so early, he could organize his desk first and then go to breakfast with plenty of time to spare. He first swapped the hardback chair for the plush one in the corner- no need to be uncomfortable whilst you work after all. Then he stacked all his textbooks in between the wall and the drawers which were conveniently pushed flush against the desk so made a good book-rest. Pulling his Stationary Box towards him, he settled into the armchair and thought over what he might need. Deciding to cover all bases, he stored a block of sticky notes, two ballpoint pens, one marker, pencil, highlighter, eraser, pencil sharpener and ruler in the zipped grey case, placing it into his satchel. Setting a stapler and some staples to the side, he stored the rest under the desk followed by the box of parchment he had purchased from Diagon Alley. 

The set of quills he had bought, which also came with a sharpening knife and paperweight blotter, came in a sleek black case, so Harry decided to leave this at the back of the desk propped open against the wall as it looked smart but would still give him access to everything he needed. He placed two pots of black writing ink next to the case also, feeling much better at having his space organised. Glancing at the empty bookcase, Harry decided that since they were not yet in use he would set up his potions equipment there. He placed his cauldron on the third shelf, alongside his brass scales. On the shelf above, he neatly stacked the potions kits (all three of them) and, opposite them, the crystal phials he had been instructed to buy. He stood his telescope in between.

He didn’t take nearly so much care in unpacking his clothing, most of which was stacked straight into the drawers, but he did hang the remainder of his shirts nearly in the cupboard with the cloaks. Looking around the room, Harry grinned widely. It looked like home. He drew his wand from the holster on his left forearm, deciding to see whether he could cast the time charm before he left for breakfast. 

“Tempus.” Harry was quite surprised when there was a flash of orange and the numbers 07:39 appeared in front of him. Then he grinned again grabbing his satchel with his pencil case, this time taking two fresh notebooks, finally heading out the door to go to breakfast. He remembered the way to the great hall quite easily, as there weren’t too many corridors to pass through before the staircase that led to the entrance hall. He was still a little surprised to see how few people were in the hall, most obviously taking advantage of the late start for the first day, but did see the female prefect from last night at the Slytherin table so he headed over in that direction. 

“Hi, do you mind if I join you?” 

The prefect startled a little at being interrupted, but when she saw Harry she nodded to him with a small smile. It seemed she was not doing much eating as she was holding her fork limply, completely ignoring it in favor of devouring the book in her left hand. Harry tried not to giggle as he spooned some eggs and a slice of toast onto his own plate, glad for once not to be sneaking food from the Dursleys or eating scraps from their plates. As he finished the eggs on his plate, he heard a small cough from behind him and turned to see Hermione standing awkwardly. 

“Hey, Hermione. Did you want to sit?” 

She smiled. “No, I’ve eaten already thank you, but I was wondering whether you would want to come with me to find the library? I don’t have a class until ten and would love to explore a little more first. Plus it says it opens at six in the morning until ten at night!”

“Sure,” Harry smiled around his glass of orange juice, “let me just finish my juice and grab my timetable from Professor Snape, I’d love to find the library too.”

Hermione grinned at him as she sat primly on the bench beside him. Harry drank his juice down quickly and pulled his satchel back onto his shoulder, “shall we go?” Hermione nodded and they both stood, heading up to the staff table where Professor Snape sat scowling slightly into a cup of strong-looking coffee. 

“Professor Snape, I was wondering if I could please have my timetable? Hermione and I were going to take a look at the library before classes if we both have time.”

The professor nodded stiffly, pulling a sheet of parchment from beside his plate and waving his wand above it. “Here, Potter, you and Miss Granger share your first class of the day. Please do not be late.” 

Harry nodded, “Thank you sir!” and together he and Hermione almost skipped out of the hall in their excitement. Harry looked over his timetable as they walked,

MONDAY.  
10.00-11.40 Transfiguration (Slytherin/Gryffindor)  
14.00-16.40 Herbology (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)

TUESDAY  
08.20-10.00 Potions (Slytherin/Ravenclaw)  
10.20-11.20 Defense Against the Dark Arts (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)  
12.40-14.20 Charms (Slytherin/Gryffindor)  
14.40-15.40 History Of Magic (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)

WEDNESDAY  
08.40-10.40 Transfiguration (Slytherin/Gryffindor)  
11.00-12.40 Defense Against the Dark Arts (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)  
20.00-22.40 Astronomy (Slytherin/Ravenclaw/Gryffindor/Hufflepuff)

THURSDAY  
10.40-12.40 Herbology (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)  
13.20-14.20 Transfiguration (Slytherin/Gryffindor)  
14.40-16.40 Potions (Slytherin/Ravenclaw)

FRIDAY  
09.20-11.40 Charms (Slytherin/Gryffindor)  
13.20-14.20 Defense Against the Dark Arts (Slytherin/Hufflepuff)  
15.00-17.00 Potions (Slytherin/Ravenclaw)

Please note Breakfast is served between 06.20-08.40, Lunch 11.40-14.00 and Dinner 17.00-19.20.   
The library is open between 06.00-22.00 on weekdays, 08.00-22.00 on Saturdays and Sundays.

 

Harry was pleased that they would only have two classes today, as it would make it easier to settle in and also to get organised. Mostly though, it just meant that he and Hermione would be able to spend more time in the library exploring. Casting another “tempus” as they left the Great Hall, Harry noted that the two of them had just under two hours to see the library. 

“Hey Hermione,” he said, putting out an arm to catch her elbow, “I want to get my transfiguration text before we go to the library if that would be alright? It would save time if I grabbed it now so I don’t have to come back for it later.”

“Oh of course, I’ll wait here?” She nodded towards the alcove beside the door to the dungeons. 

“Sure, I’ll only be a few minutes. Thank you.” Harry jogged down the stairs and towards the common room, muttering “Demiguise” against the patch of wall where he hoped the door was, and sighing in relief when he noticed it appearing. Figuring he may as well have all his books for today in one place, he pulled One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi off the desk, along with A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration and a blank notebook for each subject as well as the one he was already carrying. At the last minute, he also picked up Magical Theory, so he could try to study a little more before transfiguration and hopefully not make a fool of himself. On his way back through the common room he heard someone call his name, turning to see Blaise walking up behind him.

“Harry! Where are you rushing off to?”

“Me and Hermione are going to explore the library, want to come?”

Blaise, pulling a jumper over his head, nodded in agreement. “Sure, not much of a breakfast person anyway. Where is she?” 

“Top of the stairs,” Harry said, “come on.”

The two of them reached the top and Blaise called out a greeting to Hermione. “Do either of you know how to get to the library?” 

“...no.” Hermione froze on the spot for a moment, then continued, “but I’m sure one of the older students can point us in the right direction.”

“I have an idea,” said Harry. “Partis ad Library”. Holding his wand ahead of him, Harry was again surprised that his spell worked when a little blue arrow sparked out the end of his wand and turned to point at the marble staircase. He looked up at his friends, who were both staring wide-eyed.

“There is no way that was a first year spell, Harry.” Blaise muttered. “No way.” 

Harry shrugged, “I actually read about that one in Hogwarts: A History, it said that the castle’s sentient magic helps the charm to work and it used to be really common, though for some reason it has gone out of fashion more recently and people just get lost more, but Hogwarts’ magic helping the spell along means pretty much anyone can pull it off with a wand. I figured it could come in handy.”

Harry walked towards the staircase, not noticing the looks of incredulity that his new friends were bestowing upon him. After a moment though, they both followed without a word. They walked up the first flight of stairs, admiring the gorgeous marble which ran all the way from top to bottom, took the first right then the second left, passing the courtyard on the way, and finally turned right and met the great oak doors with Library displayed on a plaque to the right. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry pushed open the doors.

All three of them gasped.

Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves met their eyes. To their left, Harry saw a small stone staircase leading to a second floor of this and, as his eyes followed the room further, he notices a staircase on the other end of that too, leading up to a third! They walked slowly, peering around corners and gazing upwards. There were circular desks stowed between bookshelves, some large enough for eight seats to occupy and some only large enough for one. Harry noticed the front left hand side of the library seemed to have quite a few large tables grouped together and realized this must be the area where study groups were most often found. Then, to the right, a large square desk which obviously belonged to the librarian. Behind that seemed to be a few small classrooms and in each Harry could see a large oval table, unlike the ones in the main room as they were much longer and thinner and could probably sit more people too. He wondered whether these were for actual classes or whether they were for group projects and the like. Harry couldn’t keep the childish grin and awe off his face as they snaked between shelves, finding hidden tables and beanbags and random armchairs, some areas where shelves and desks were cramped together and others where there seemed to be plenty of space separating everything. There was even a space right in the back corner of the library where there seemed to be nothing but beanbags, all hidden by the shelves from the front of the room but plenty enough for at least twenty people to hide away in. Harry, by now, was sure there were twice as many seats and beanbags in the library as there were students, but there must be a hundred books for every body in the castle. He had always loved books, but Harry found it impossible to believe that even if he read for every second of the rest of his life, he would ever get through the sheer amount of words in the place.

Tapping Blaise, who was looking around with just as much excitement but concealing it slightly more successfully, on the shoulder, he nodded towards the staircase by the door. 

“You want to come upstairs?” 

Blaise nodded enthusiastically, and looked to Hermione to check that she was coming too.

“I’d love to, but I want to go get my books from the dorms before transfiguration and I’m all the way up in the tower. Plus, I’m not entirely sure how to get back from here, so I best not.”

“Okay,” replied Harry, “but you could always try ‘Partis Ad’ if you need help.”

Hermione pulled out her wand. “What do I do?” 

“Partis ad and then say where you want to go. Just- just ask your magic to help I guess.”

She looked skeptically at him, but raised her wand slightly as she intoned “Partis ad Gryffindor dormitories.” Her wand sparked a little and then, just like Harry’s, a little blue arrow popped out of the end and pointed towards the doors. Hermione’s eyes widened comically. “Oh my gosh I did it! Thank you Harry!” She gave Harry a quick hug, smiled warmly at Blaise, and rushed off giddily. 

Harry and Blaise headed slowly towards the staircase and climbed, still gazing around them. As they reached the top Harry noticed for the first time that all of the shelves were labelled, the closest to them having a small plaque on the end with ‘Ancient Runes’ inscribed upon it. Each shelf had its own plaque, he noticed as they walked along, although there were several shelves for each subject. ‘Divination’, ‘Care of Magical Creatures’, ‘Arithmancy’- Harry stopped to notice that none of these subjects were on his timetable, but realized then that they must be electives that you could take in the upper years. As they reached the end of the walkway, Harry saw that the next staircase had a red rope drawn across it and that there was a slight shimmer in the air surrounding the opening of the staircase. There was a sign: ‘RESTRICTED’. 

“What do you think they keep up there?” he asked Blaise. 

“Probably NEWT level defense texts and stuff like that,” he replied, “Stuff that could be dangerous to us because we don’t know how to wield our magic properly yet.”

 

Harry nodded and turned away from the restricted section, pulling out his wand and casting a muttered “Tempus.” 09:43. He hadn’t got any extra study done, he had been far too enthralled with the library now at his disposal, but it was time for class.


	9. The First Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that I stole McGonagall’s little introduction speech from HPPS, forgive me? I don’t own it, I never will, *cry*.

Chapter 9: The First Class

Blaise, luckily, had all of his textbooks packed into his rucksack, so there was no need for them to go back to the dorms before Transfiguration. This time, Blaise cast the spell and they both headed for class. Harry thought that the transfiguration classroom might actually be on top of the great hall, as they had made somewhat of a square from the marble staircase to reach it, but he didn’t know for sure. What he did know is that he and Blaise seemed to be the only people in class to not be rushing in panicked- it seemed nobody else had been taught the spell he had taught his friends that morning. At this, Harry relaxed a little, maybe he wouldn’t be so behind in class after all. 

As he walked into class he noticed Hermione sat alone at a desk near the front and made to join her. Blaise took a seat at her desk, to her right, while Harry sat at the vacant desk to her left, noticing her quiet relief at not being alone any longer. 

“Did you guys enjoy the library?” She asked as they sat. 

“Oh Hermione it was so beautiful!” gushed Harry. “There were all these books upstairs that were for subjects we don’t even take yet and the next floor up is restricted and Blaise thinks that is where they keep all the books for the NEWT students and stuff it would be too dangerous for us to know yet but there were nooks and crannies everywhere and so many books!” Harry threw his head back and gazed at the ceiling. 

Blaise laughed, “So yes, Hermione, he loved the library. Did you manage to find your way around alright with that spell?” 

“It worked perfectly,” Hermione confessed. It was as Harry lowered his head, rolling his neck slightly, that he noticed a tabby cat sat on the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. It seemed to be watching them with interest. Harry cocked his head to the side as he noticed the markings around the cats eyes in the shape of rectangular glasses. He smiled to himself, turning back to his desk. He wondered how long it would be before the rest of the class noticed that this was their teacher. He was surprised that Hermione hadn’t picked up on it, but realized that animagus transformations were only mentioned once in the foreword of their transfiguration textbook and that she may not have read that bit at all. As Harry reached for his satchel and pulled his textbook out, along with a spare notebook and his pencil case, he realized somebody was talking to him. Looking up, he saw a dark haired girl stood at the end of his desk. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She said, her voice soft. 

“Go for it.” She sat down, taking out a scroll of parchment and ink, but continued rifling through her bag for a moment longer and pulling out a quill triumphantly. 

“I’m Tracey.”  
“Harry,” he responded. He was in the middle of stamping TRANSFIGURATION across the front of his notebook with a marker pen, so didn’t notice Tracey watching him with interest. 

“You know around here, people are going to look at you funny using muggle stationary like that,” she said. 

He peered at her. “Are you one of those people?” She laughed warmly.

“No, no, my dad is a muggle, I don’t care. Although now I’m wishing I had bought some of those notebooks because carrying parchment around is kind of a pain.” 

“Why do you think I bought some?” he teased, “I like being able to find the essays I’m looking for.”

Chuckling quietly, they both settled down facing the front of the room, awaiting the lesson to begin. Not a moment to soon, as just then the cat on the front desk leaped forwards, transforming in the air and becoming an upright Professor McGonagall. Harry thought to himself that he was most impressed she had managed the jump without falling flat on her face, as he no doubt would have done. 

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.” The professor looked at each of them sternly, then turned her back and walked to the blackboard at the front of the room. Taking a piece of chalk, she wrote ‘ACUS’ in big letters. “This is the spell required to turn a matchstick into a needle, which is what your task will be today. Can anybody tell me the correct wand movement for such a spell?”

Hermione’s hand was in the air faster than Harry had processed the question. He raised his hand as well, but noticed that nobody else did.

“Miss Granger?” 

“A sharp downwards jab and flick to the left.” 

“Very good, 2 points to Gryffindor. Now, Mr Potter, Mr Zabini and Mr Longbottom please come to the front and collect a box of matches, take some for you and your desk-mate then pass them backwards. The first person to transfigure their matchstick into an acceptable needle will gain their house five points.”

There was shuffling as people passed needles and drew wands, then a cacophony of out-of-time spell casting. Harry was slightly amused at everybody’s rush. Drawing his own wand, he pointed it at the matchstick on his table. “Acus” he coaxed, picturing a needle clearly in his mind. His jaw dropped when he saw the matchstick change immediately into a long, silver needle, complete with an eyelet at one end. 

“Um- Professor McGonagall, may I have some more matches?” 

“Why, Potter? What have you done to- Oh my. Very good, was that your first try?”

“Yes Ma’am, but I want to practice again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke you see.” Harry was aware of all the eyes on him and the professor, but tried to ignore them all the same. The professor handed him a box of matches from the table behind him, watching him curiously again. It seemed she wanted to see his spellwork. Harry thought it would be just his luck for the spell not to work at all this time, but when he pointed his wand a second time and muttered “Acus”, the matchstick changed quickly into a perfect silver needle. 

“Fantastic, Mr Potter, ten points to Gryff- to Slytherin, Sorry. It seems you have inherited your father’s talent for transfiguration. Do you think you could try a different type of needle?”

“Acus.” Harry stressed. This time the needle was gold and slightly thicker and longer, but still with an eyelet. Harry wondered whether he could make knitting needles too, so tried again. He was slightly amused to see the tiny matchstick expanding into a long plastic knitting needle at once. Looking up at Professor McGonagall, he smiled sheepishly. 

“I wanted to see whether it works for any type of needles.” he shrugged. 

Professor McGonagall looked astounded. “Well, Mr Potter, it would seem that it does. Would you like to work on the reversal or get a head start on the homework?”

“The reversal please, Professor. It would be ‘leviores’ for that, right?” 

She nodded. “Very good, Potter. However, if you manage this just as quickly it would seem the homework will be classwork for you as well. When you are ready, I shall write it upon the board.” Nodding her head, the professor walked back to her desk. Harry turned to his needles again, and pointed his wand, but stopped when he heard a cough from his left. 

“Pretty good for someone who didn’t know about magic until a month ago, Potter.” Tracey was looking at him with amusement but continued at his frown of confusion. “I heard you telling Blaise at dinner last night,” she explained. 

“Oh, yeah. It just feels natural, so it was easy. It’s only the first day, maybe I’ll suck at everything else.” He shrugged, “I don’t want to be the best, I just want to learn everything I can.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t end up in Ravenclaw with a philosophy like that one,” Tracey laughed. 

“The hat considered it,” Harry revealed, “but decided on Slytherin in the end. I didn’t really have an opinion either way.”

She grinned, “That’s fair enough, let’s get back to work anyway, I need to figure out how to do part one yet!”

“Just will it to happen, and trust that it will happen the way you see it happening in your mind. That’s all I did.” Tracey squinted at him slightly but turned back to the match. A second later, it was a needle. 

“Wow! Thanks, Potter!”

“It’s Harry, and you’re welcome.” He smiled as Professor McGonagall came over to see Tracey’s work, and turned his attention to his own work. Starting with the first he pointed his wand. “Leviores.” It changed back into a matchstick at once. He was pleased when it worked on the other needles just as easily. Looking up at the blackboard he could see Professor McGonagall’s neat, loopy handwriting declaring the homework assignment. 

-Explain the process for turning a matchstick into a needle, and explore how this method may be modified in order to return the matchstick to its original state. 12” due Wednesday.-

Harry pulled a blank notebook out his satchel along with his schedule. Placing his schedule above the first blank page in the notebook, he tapped it three times with his wand and quietly commanded “Notitia translationis”. Watching as his timetable copied itself onto the first page, Harry grinned widely. He was really starting to love magic, which seemed to like him just as much. Once the schedule had been transferred, he leaned across the desk to pass his copy to Blaise. 

“Here,” he said, “you never got one this morning.”

Blaise looked up, shocked, but thanked him quietly before returning to his needles. Blaise, too, had managed to turn a few matchsticks, but had not yet managed to reverse it.

Turning to the next page, Harry scrawled ‘Monday 2’ and then, underneath, ‘Transfiguration-’ followed by the homework task on the board. Then he copied the assignment again into his Transfiguration notebook and got to work, occasionally flipping through the textbook for references. By the end of the lesson, Harry had almost written his entire essay in his notebook, though he knew he would have to write it up on parchment to hand it in. 

“Class, the homework is as stated on the board. There will be no excuses for not handing it in on Wednesday. You are free to go. Mr Potter, a word if I may?” 

Clearing his desk, Harry walked towards McGonagall’s with trepidation. He was sure he couldn’t possibly be in trouble already. He stood quietly, waiting for her to turn to him, which she did after a moment. 

“Mr Potter, I just wanted to make sure you are aware that your homework will need to be handed in on parchment. I do not mind your using muggle stationary for notes and in class but it will not do for official submissions.”

“That’s fine professor. I just like to write things out in draft first. I have quills and parchment and the like.”

“Good. Thank you Mr Potter, that is all. Oh, and you did very well today. Your father would be proud.”

“Thanks professor,” Harry ducked his head slightly and turned to leave. When he walked into the hallway, he found Blaise, Tracey and Hermione waiting for him. 

“Everything okay?” Blaise asked. 

“Fine,” Harry smiled, “what are you all doing now?”

“Lunch!” Tracey cheered. “I slept through breakfast, so I’m starving. Anyone else?”

Hermione nodded, “Me too, I have a defense class in an hour. Blaise?”

“Not really hungry,” Blaise shrugged, “I was thinking of heading to the library to start on that paper. What are you doing Harry?”

“I want to do the paper too, but I need my quills and parchment so I was going to head to my room to do it. Blaise you could come there if you wanna work together?” Blaise nodded, so when the group reached the entrance hall they split off, calling goodbyes as the girls headed in for food and the boys headed down the stairs to the dungeons. As they reached Harry’s bedroom, Blaise laughed.

“You’re right next to me, I never even noticed.” Harry glanced around and, sure enough, the door to the left of his own was marked with Blaise’s name. Harry hissed his password quietly, not that Blaise would have been able to copy anyway, he mused, and pushed the door open wide so the boy could enter behind him. He went over to the corner and pulled the hard chair from where he had moved it that morning, placing it next to the armchair at his desk, then ducked underneath the table to pull out a scroll of parchment. 

“Do you know how long a foot even is? I know it’s just over thirty centimeters but do you think there is a ruler around here that measures feet?”

Blaise laughed, “Your parchment will be either a foot or a foot and a half, check the box.”

Harry peered under the desk again and let out a bark of laughter. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that! I’ve been worrying about that since I saw the length requirement on the board.” 

Blaise laughed too, settling himself down on the chair next to Harry and pulling out his own quill and ink. The boys worked quietly for a while, occasionally muttering corrections under their breaths or checking sentences with each other but otherwise focusing on their own essays. Harry finished his assignment at 12:15, he had cast a "tempus" to check, since he had done most of the work in class anyway and was really only writing it out in neat and checking it’s length (13.5”), however Blaise was only about half done. Setting his parchment to the side to dry, Harry pulled his ‘diary’ notebook out his satchel and crossed through where he had written the assignment, a feeling of satisfaction overcoming him at clearing his to-do list so quickly. Then he pulled out his marker pen and stamped ‘DIARY’ across the front of the book so he could tell it from the others. Harry thought he would quite like to learn a charm to change the colour of the book to make this even easier, and scribbled this down underneath the transfiguration task so he would remember to research it later. Then, he placed his transfiguration text with the others between his desk and drawers, pulling out his Herbology text to read ahead for the class this afternoon. 

It was another ten minutes before Blaise declared his essay complete, stretching his wrist out and rolling his neck. “You mind if I leave this here to dry and grab it this evening?” he asked. 

“Of course not, time for lunch?” 

Blaise shrugged. “Sure.” 

Harry noticed that Blaise didn’t seem all too bothered about lunch, but decided it might be down to changing routines and school, so brushed it off. He slid his Herbology text back into his satchel and pulled it onto his shoulder, watching Blaise do the same with his rucksack. Then, together, they headed out. As they reached lunch, Hermione was just on her way out of the great hall with a slim, dark skinned girl that Harry didn’t know. She smiled and waved at them as they drew closer, before veering off towards the marble staircase with her friend. 

Harry grabbed a couple of cheese sandwiches from a plate in the center of the table, eating half of one before realizing that after having breakfast this morning he wasn’t particularly hungry himself. He did, however, enjoy the tall glass of thick, frothy pumpkin juice he had found himself with. It was far too sweet to drink too regularly, Harry thought, but seeing as how at his aunt and uncle’s he had rarely been allowed anything other than plain water, it was a nice treat. 

Finishing one of his sandwiches, Harry realized that he had left his ‘Hyde’ gloves in the bottom of his trunk. Not sure whether he would need them for the first class, he jumped up to go and collect them just in case. He glanced at Blaise, who was still eating a bowl of soup. 

“I’ll see you in Herbology, or I’ll be in the library before that, I need to go grab something from my trunk first.”

Blaise nodded, but Harry missed it as he was already turning to dash back to the common room in a panic. He knew he had plenty of time, but being unprepared made him feel horribly uncomfortable and he wanted to remedy it as soon as possible. Dashing around the corner of the dark corridor, he almost collided with Tracey.

“Whoa- are you okay?” She asked, eyeing him warily.

“Fine,” Harry replied, gasping a little. “Need to get to my trunk.” 

“Well alright, you gotta breathe first, though. What’s wrong?” 

“Unprepared-” Harry choked out. He could feel the anxiety building. “Need to get gloves.”

“Come on,” Tracey pulled him by the arm towards the common room, growling at a pair of sixth years who were stood in front of the common room entrance until they moved out of the way. Once they were inside, she pushed Harry into an armchair. “Tell me what you need and why it is causing you to panic.” she ordered.

Harry was still gasping for breath a little, but he answered as steadily as he could manage. “I need my dragon hide gloves out my trunk because I don’t know if I will need them in Herbology and being unprepared makes me anxious.”

Tracey nodded. “Okay. Take a deep breath in, hold for five seconds and release.” 

He followed the instructions blindly, repeating a few times until he started to notice his heart rate decreasing and his head spinning less. He looked up at her in amazement. “How did you do that?” 

“My brother, Roger, he’s in his fourth year and has been having panic attacks since before he came to Hogwarts. I learned to manage them with him. You feeling okay?” 

Harry nodded, “loads better, thank you. I really do need to go and get my gloves though.” Tracey only smiled at him. 

“Go for it,” she said, “just don’t work yourself up into a panic on the way. I’m heading up to the library for a little while if you want to join? Or have you not eaten yet?”

“I have.” Harry responded, “I just came from there. Planned on going to the library anyway so yeah that would be nice. I’ll be back in a moment.” He hurried down the stairs to the dormitories, though in far less of a panic than he was a few minutes ago, and quickly fished through the bottom of his trunk for the gloves he had missed in his unpacking earlier. They were hidden under a pile of bundled up socks. Once he had collected them, he joined Tracey in the common room and they headed to the library.

“How do you know where it is already?” she asked him, as they approached the big, oak doors. 

“Are you kidding? This was the first thing on my to-do list. Hermione, Blaise and I came first thing this morning and I found a handy directional spell in Hogwarts: A History that helped with the not-getting-lost part.”

“Cool. I’m gonna stick by you, Potter, you know what you’re doing.”

 

“You really are kidding- I don’t have a clue what I’m doing!” Harry laughed. The two of them took a table near the back of the room with three chairs around it. These were the same, plush armchairs that he had in his bedroom, Harry noticed. Harry settled down with his textbook again, absently doodling plant names on the table with his forefinger, whist Tracey made a start on the morning’s homework.


End file.
